You Can Find Me Where The Sea Pours Into The Stars

Chapter 9: Whorls of tired anemones

Your alarm jars you out of sleep, the obnoxious noise rattling around in your head. Groaning, your hand slams down on the off button, and you stagger upright. You wince as your stretch out your limbs, working the stiffness from them. Maybe you should ask Vulkan for a lift when you go that far out again. He hadn't seemed to mind the last time.

You scrawl a note for Mercedes and leave it on the counter as you pack your lunch, It's scuba duty today, so it's double time for the amount of sandwiches.

To your delight, Piper is outside on your porch when you exit the house. You lock your front door and scurry over.

"Hello," you greet excitedly, "I haven't seen you in a few days."

He walks up to you, and in reflex your hand opens. A smooth stone is dropped into it, and you lift it to inspect it. The rock makes you think of the ones at the cove's edges. You thank Piper and tuck your gift into your pocket. Unfortunately, work time waits for no one.

You feel the pull of anxiety in your chest as you enter the parking lot. The last time you were here hadn't gone well. But you attempt to soothe the worry by remembering that your coworkers don't hate you— they're just concerned. Which was probably the right call anyway, you're just stubborn.

Making a pit stop, you head to the main dive area (you're early as always). You make a beeline to go see Brandy. She's idly leaning on the lifeguard post while checking her phone. None of the other mer-performers are in the water yet. She looks up as you approach.

"You look loads better," Brandy comments, putting her phone away and straightening up so she can get a better look at you.

You make an attempt at levity, "I doubt I could be worse."

She shakes her head, "It can always be worse."

Fair enough.

"That it can," you concede, sighing.

The two of you stand in silence, and then you break it.

Beginning, you say, "Hey uh— about the other day. I shouldn't have acted like that. I'm sorry." You really do suck at apologies, don't you? You try again, "You were right. I was really tired. Thanks for the kick in the ass about it. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that— I'm going to get better at controlling how I speak when I'm in a rut mentally."

Brandy hums, then says, "I forgive you." She laughs, "Besides, I'm always happy to kick you in the ass."

There's some levity to the last sentence, and Brandy smiles at you. The weight lifts off your chest.

You hear the familiar sounds of the other divers beginning to file down the hallway, and you wish Brandy goodbye— she tells you to be safe and you tell her you're always safe. You head to the main diving area to take a look at your gear.

Stan's in your vision a few minutes later with his normal clipboard in hand.

"You feeling better, kid?" he asks, narrowing his eyes at you.

You give him a thumbs up, "I'm right as rain."

He gives a nod of approval, "Excellent. You'll be in the smaller reef exhibit today with Oliver and Jill. Keep an eye on the white tips— I've heard they're a little antsy recently."

Giving him verbal acknowledgement, you go back to your gear check. It wouldn't be so bad working with those two again. You know Jill, and Oliver is fine in your book. Jill has been your dive partner for a long time, but Stan likes to keep people paired into threes. If you had the staff numbers, it would be four to a team.

A BCD and tank plop down beside you, the regulators grazing the floor. You look up from your stooped position to see Oliver beaming down at you. Today he's taken all of the hair from his bangs and pinned it back, creating an oddly slick hairstyle. You wonder if that was how it was meant to look.

"Hey!" he greets, saying your name, "We're paired up again!"

You smile, then turn back to what you were doing, "Yeah— it's nice to have a trio again. Jill and I have been a duo for about a year now."

"Oh shoot, for real?" Oliver drops down as well, kneeling by his kit to examine it, "What happened to the other person?"

Shrugging, you check your regulators to make sure air is coming out, "He moved states. The guy's name was Jack— they got put together because Stan thinks he's funny."

Jack had been a nice fellow. Very calm.

Oliver nods, and the two of you focus on your checks. Jill joins you eventually, and you make your way over to the smaller of the two reef exhibits. There was a massive one that everyone crowded around— that was the reef where you did your mermaid performances— and then there was this particular exhibit. It was calmer, with less of an audience crowded around.

You hit the water, and stare at the bubbles that float upwards to the surface as you sink. Then you bob back up with the help of your BCD. The other two join you, and the clock officially starts.

There's only a few sharks in this tank, which makes it significantly easier to keep track of them, so the three of you split off to different sections. You hum to yourself as you scrape algae off the bottom of the aquarium, catching the bits that float in your net. You feel a bump on your leg and turn to see a white tip shark swim by. How cute!

It leaves, and go back to your task. Only for your new friend to come back and bump you again. You're a little befuddled. Then it bumps your little scraper, and wriggles across the sand. Watching this behavior is fascinating, and it goes on for a few more moments until you reach down and sprinkle some sand on the back of the shark. It wiggles in excitement, then darts away.

You laugh, and keep on with your task. Soon you meet back up with your compatriots, and bob back up to the surface. Filling Jill in on what happened, she informs you that apparently the shark's name is Susie, and she does that to many divers.

The older diver shrugs, "Sharks are odd like that sometimes."

Vulkan flashes across your mind, and you chuckle, "They sure are."

The lot of you clamber out, and you spend the rest of your time carrying buckets and general essentials around. You actually luck out and get to feed a sea turtle, which absolutely adds shine to your day. The cove doesn't get many turtles, so the ones you see here are about it. They're all rehab turtles— most of them missing fins from trash in the ocean.

You're packing up to leave when you hear your name called. Turning, you see Oliver jog up to you. He's unpinned his hair, but it lays oddly on his forehead now.

"Hey," he says, slightly out of breath, "Are you uh- I mean. What're you doing after work?"

You zip your bag closed, and sling it over your shoulder. "I promised my roommate that we'd go look at fabrics after I got off work."

Mercedes, for whatever reason, has gotten it into her head that she should be attempting to make swimsuits. She also wants you as her guinea pig, and what better way to bribe you than to let you pick out the fabric?

Oliver deflates slightly, "Oh. I see."

"Why, what's up?" You question, feeling slightly bad.

He clears his throat, "I was just going to ask if you wanted to go see that new action movie— the superhero one? I don't want to go by myself."

You'd seen trailers for it, but it wasn't something you were particularly interested in. Not because you don't like superhero films, but because it struck you as boring.

Aiming for a nice response, you diplomatically say, "I've seen some stuff about it— I don't think it's for me, but if you want someone to go with Dave's a great option! He's into all the niche stuff."

The man in question pauses as he walks by and asks, "Dave is a great option for what?"

You explain Oliver's situation, and Dave beams.

Enthusiastically he offers, "Hell yeah bro— I'll go with you! Let me know what time and where— I'm free tonight."

Oliver gives a thumbs up, and Dave exchanges phone numbers with him.

You leave them behind and climb into your car. It's super muggy inside, and you turn your AC onto full blast. The crisp air is soothing in comparison to the heat coming in through your windshield and you squint your eyes. Damn that death ray in the sky.

The gravel crunches under your tires as you pull in the driveway, and you beam at Mercedes. She's waiting on the porch for you, and for once you get to drive your duo somewhere as she climbs into your car. Today her hair is loose in a French braid, but there's already curls sticking up from the humidity that it might be a lost cause soon.

Both of you scurry into the store as fast as humanly possible to escape the sun, and breath easy when the doors close behind you.

Turning to your friend you ask, "So, where to?"

Mercedes leads you into the swimsuit fabric section, and you're struck by just how many types there are.

She explains as she brushes a hand along them, "I'm thinking I could make you a new mermaid top? When's that new tail supposed to be done?"

"Uh…" you dig in your pocket for your phone and pull it out, "In a few weeks I think?"

You'd ordered a new tail a few months ago, and given that it was custom to your measurements and color specifications, it took a while for them to work on it. Not to mention the waitlist… but oh were you excited!

"Hm," Mercedes taps her foot as she stares at the bolts of fabric on the rack, "We could go with a specific theme or try and match your tail?"

Thinking about it, you hum before answering, "I think a specific theme could be fun."

Your friend nods, staring off into space, before snapping her fingers, "Ooh what if I made you a shark themed suit? I could add a flared coverup to go with it— you still have the shells from the cove, don't you?"

A noise of agreement from you, and Mercedes charges on, rattling off potential ideas and inspiration. You soon find yourself with a much emptier wall, and leaving the store with several armfuls worth of fabric.

The end of the week doesn't make the temperatures any better, and you're absolutely drenched in sweat by the time you make it to the cove. Slinging your bag down, you don't even bother to take off your shoes as you plunge face first into the cool water. The salt stings your eyes as you hit the bottom, but you blink it away.

You go to swim when you feel a gentle nudge at your ankle, and you look down to see one of the baby sharks has returned! You smile, and reach down to give him a pat on the head. He swims out of your reach, and you frown as you bring your hand back up. He returns almost immediately, and you decide that maybe this is a cat situation.

Experimentally, you put your hand close to him. The little shark immediately moves out of range. You repeat this a few times, before you try to step towards him instead. Lunging, you almost brush his dorsal fin, but he darts between your legs to behind you, leaving you to fall very ungracefully into the water. You thrash around for a moment before righting yourself, crossing your arms and scowling at your finned friend. If he had human features, you got the impression that he'd look awfully smug about the situation.

You stick out your tongue, and he does a lazy backflip in response.

Grumbling, you stumble back onto the shore. Your new friend hovers in the shallows, watching you. You crack open your bag of pineapple, and start munching on it as you look at him. He needs a name, you decide.

You approach, and the shark skitters away, before coming back to observe.

Pointing a finger at him, you decide upon his new moniker.

"I dub you: Asshole."

Very mature, you know. But perhaps you're just used to sharks coming and interacting with you that this is incredibly odd behavior. Especially since he continues to come back. At any rate, Asshole doesn't seem to mind his new name. You're fairly certain he has no idea what it means. Maybe. You can't talk to fish like Vulkan can.

Speaking of, you look up to scan the horizon. No large fin in sight. You suppose you have some time to kill.

Narrowing your eyes, you stare down at Asshole.

"Ready to go for a swim?"

He moves in a tight circle, and you take that to mean a yes. You're going to go shelling again, so you strap your bag and knife on, and head into the water.

It's oddly empty now to swim without your merman by your side. The ocean feels much larger. Asshole nips at your heels, moving out of reach any time you move towards him. The two of you settle into an odd little routine as you go about exploring the ocean floor. There's a few large shells that have washed in, but you also explore through the grass that's sprouting up. Craggy rocks within the foliage reveal different fish species that scatter as you and your company come through.

You find the remnants of what you're fairly certain is an anchor, and you spend some time fiddling with it. Tugging at it doesn't do much, but you're easily entertained while throwing your weight against the giant chunk of metal that sits in the sand. The rope is covered in barnacles, and after you lose to the anchor you take your time sawing through the fiber. You don't get tangled, instead shoving it all into your bag to take back to the shore.

Vulkan hasn't shown up yet, and you frown. Hopefully something hasn't happened.

The hours tick by, and despite Asshole's company, you decide to call it quits for the day. You get out and the little shark watches you from the shallows.

"I'll be back tomorrow," you tell him, "Don't wait for me."

You can't help but feel incredibly disappointed as you ride your bike back to the house.

In your dreams, you have claws. They rake through the skin and scales of a mer-person as blood leeches through the water, swirling in clouds around you. Roaring surrounds you as a fight surges all around, the action moving with the current as folk sink fangs and nails into each other.

You wake in a cold sweat.

The cove is silent the next day when you pull up. This time, there's a wagon on the back of your bike that you detach to bring down the trail.

All it takes is for you to splash a little in the surf for Asshole to appear. At least, you're pretty sure it's him. Your theory is confirmed when he shies away from your hand.

"Alright," you tease, "I get the point."

You fumble in the wagon, before pulling out the inflatable paddleboard. Asshole watches you intensely as you begin to put it together. You curse at the board as you fight with it to begin inflating it.

"I paid good money for you. Work, dammit!" You hiss at it.

The automatic pump you bought only begins working after you smack it with a rock. The paddleboard finally comes together, and you're pleased with the shark decor on it.

Given that Vulkan still hasn't shown up, you decide that maybe you'll relearn how to paddleboard. It's been a long time anyways, so why not brush up on the skill?

The water skims your ankles as you straddle the board, pushing off the shore. Asshole is right at your heel again, and you stare at him.

Amusement in your voice, you warn him: "Listen, if I fall off the board I'm going to land right on top of you. Could you move?"

The shark doesn't appear to care, so you sigh and continue on into slightly deeper water.

You're wobbly as you stand, muscles shaking a little as you attempt to find your balance. For someone so fearless in the water, a tiny watercraft really throws you for a loop. The paddle cuts through the waves with minimal trouble, and after a few minutes you manage to get the hang of steering as well.

"Hah!" you grin, "I may just be good at this after all."

The ocean decides to humble you as a particularly large wave rolls through. The small crest rushes over the top of your board, and the choppy movement interrupts any sort of grounding you had, causing you to tip over. Your feet scramble for purchase and your arms pinwheel in the air.

"No no no! Fu-" your cursing is cut off as you land in the water with a splash.

The salt water doesn't bother you, but you're grouchy as you glare up at the board above your head. Thank goodness the stupid thing was tethered to you, along with the paddle. Not that you think the heavy thing was going to go anywhere, but it was attached nonetheless.

Asshole looks just as miffed as you feel, given that you had fallen on top of him. Serves him right— you warned him!

You feel a bit like a drowned rat as you clamber back onto the board, water sloshing off of you. Your sea legs come to you a bit more naturally this time, and you manage a bit longer before you get knocked off the board again.

Growling, you throw yourself back onto the thing. You are not going to let this inanimate object best you! You've faced down merfolk and drowning— this will not be the end of you.

The waves become smoother as you go a little farther out, and you get confident again. You spend a bit of time staring at the clouds, and completely stop paddling. Or looking around you.

When you get knocked off your board the next time, you're extremely surprised to see Vulkan's face staring at you from underneath the waves. You immediately perk up, and swim to the surface.

Wiping the wet hair from your face, you exclaim, "Hi! I was worried about you yesterday."

You'd ask where he'd been or why he didn't show up, but you don't as you presume to yourself that Vulkan may have better things to do than hang around some human all day.

Luckily for you, he satiates your curiosity for you: "My apologies. I was called away to help handle a minor intrusion on my territory's border."

A mention of territory again— you wonder just how much space his area covers. You frown.

"Did it go alright?"

He shrugs, and leans back in the water, floating, "It went as well as it could have— only minor injuries from the scuffle."

At that, your eyes go to scan his form, and you immediately spot the bandage on his upper left arm.

Pointing, you ask, "Is that a minor injury?"

His pupils flick away from you to stare at the water, then meet your gaze again. "Yes…?"

Your eyes narrow at him, and you lean in, very grumpily responding, "That sounded a little unsure."

"Well, I suppose that would depend on your definition of a minor injury."

"Is it a scrape?"

"No."

"A small cut?"

"No."

"Light colored bruising?"

"…no."

You huff, "It doesn't sound minor to me, then."

Vulkan chuckles, and your ears burn. Some kind of emotion shifts in your chest, but you can't pinpoint exactly what it is.

"This is not a laughing situation!" you scold, "I am very concerned that my friend got hurt!!"

That seems to give him pause, and he stares at you, going oddly silent.

"I…apologize," he murmurs, "I am not used to the concern."

Your expression must look very alarmed, because he rushes to clarify:

"I am very sturdy— my wounds heal quickly. The scratch is deep, but it will be fixed by tomorrow morning," Vulkan smiles at you, "It is no cause for concern, I promise."

"It better not be," you grumble, before sticking out your pinky finger on reflex— a habit formed from you and Mercedes over the years.

Vulkan's eyes drop down to your hand, and you realize that he probably doesn't understand the significance.

You clear your throat, arm dropping slightly, "Sorry, it's a human thing. Pinky swears are supposed to not be broken."

Halfway between you deciding whether this is stupid or not, Vulkan curls a large pinky around yours. It's a little difficult, given the webbing between his fingers, but the claws serve well enough, and the two of you shake on it.

"Now," Vulkan's eyes twinkle as bit as you let go, "What are you trying to do with the board?"

Scowling for real this time, you grumble, "I'm supposed to be paddle boarding, but it's not working out well for me."

"Paddle boarding? Why not just use a boat?"

You slap the water, then go to clamber up onto the object in question, answering, "Well it's supposed to be fun, but so far I've done is fall back into the water."

The merman nods, "I see— and what's the issue?"

"My balance, apparently." Your legs wobble as you stand up.

The waves from Vulkan's movement are not helping, and you inform him of that. It's the wrong move to make unfortunately, as all he does is decide to dive down right beside your board, which launches you off the thing.

He stares at you very smugly from beneath as you shout at him through the water, the liquid absorbing your insults.

You decide that maybe you should try not riding the board when Vulkan's around, since all he does for the remainder of the evening is knock you off the stupid thing and call it "muscle training". You're beginning to think that maybe he just wants you in the water instead.

At the end of the evening, you drag yourself onto the shore of the cove. You realize that your tiny shark friend may be nicknamed Asshole, but the real asshole was the one looking at you from his nest on the shoreline.

Pointing at him, you swear, "I hope you're ready to get your tail beat by a human in chess."

He grins, flashing you sharp teeth, "Confident words. Perhaps your chess ability is stronger than your balancing."

You sputter, "That- I- you kept making me lose it!"

"I think you were doing a good job of that before I got here."

Oh it was on. You sniff, and go to get your board— still bidding him a friendly goodbye as you go to leave. The banter wasn't serious, but something in you was fired up to actually beat him. He may be bigger than you, and better at swimming, but damn it if you weren't going to beat his ass at chess!

A/N: A fun fluffy chapter!! Sorry my update took so long this chapter was killing me for some reason. More shenanigans to come-- stay hydrated!!

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